


Tutor

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto can’t lie with his prince just yet.





	Tutor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avocado_bros_4thewin (mkblitz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkblitz/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for mrpineapple42’s “#26 Training [...] Ignis/Prom(/Noctis/Gladio)” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/179060905990/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It takes a long time to ascend the stairs of the Citadel, not because they’re too far or too steep, but because Prompto’s feet feel heavy. His heart’s pounding in his chest, not from being out of breath but the sheer adrenaline of anticipation—it’s all _really happening_. He has no idea how it’s going to go. Maybe he’ll just show up and no one will know who he is or why he’s there and he’ll be saved the embarrassment but totally lost. Or maybe there’ll be a royally appointed doctor waiting to inspect him and a slew of secretaries wanting him to fill out a plethora of forms. When he gets to the top, he finally looks up, and Gladiolus is standing right there, like he’s guarding the giant doors. Prompto’s sure he’s pink right to his ears. 

He goes to Gladiolus, because he can’t _not_ , and mumble a weak, “Hi.” Gladiolus grins back—obviously, he _knows_.

He asks, “You ready, kid?” like Prompto’s still a scared toddler instead of twenty and aching for it. When he nods, Gladiolus grunts like he expected nothing less. He turns to open the doors, and Prompto follows him in.

The lobby isn’t full, but it’s not empty either, and none of the professionally dressed people there pay him any mind. Prompto keeps tight to Gladiolus’ side and can’t help but wish he’d dressed a little better—now his black skinny jeans and sleeveless shirt seem horribly out of place. It might be time to finally buy a suit. He _is_ friends with the prince, after all. Soon more. Hopefully more. He was told he had to undergo _training_ , but maybe it’s really a _test_ , and Prompto’s about to be told what to study.

They get into the elevator, Gladiolus punching the right buttons, and Prompto just stands there and tries not to fidget. On the ride up, Gladiolus asks, “You nervous?”

Prompto’s _dying_ of nerves and just as much excitement. He admits a shaky, “Yeah.” Then a crazy thought hits him out of nowhere: did Gladiolus have to do the same thing, once upon a time?

Gladiolus chuckles, “You’ll be fine. It’s just a formality. Old traditions and all that shit. You know how it is.” 

Prompto’s a complete and utter commoner; he has no idea how it is. But he appeases Gladiolus with a stiff nod anyway. Then they reach their floor, and Gladiolus is shuffling him out.

He’s taken down the hall, around a corner, and then Gladiolus stops at what looks to Prompto like a random door. He knocks, and a few seconds later, it opens.

Ignis stands on the other side, impeccably dressed in silver slacks a purple coeurl-print button-up, ash-brown hair brushed to perfection. He even _smells_ delicious. Prompto’s knees might be shaking. 

“Thank you for bringing him,” Ignis tells Gladiolus, giving Prompto some time to collect himself. 

“Have fun,” Gladiolus counters. Prompto assumes he’s talking to Ignis, but then he claps a hand down on Prompto’s shoulder that nearly makes Prompto jump. Gladiolus tells him, “Good luck.” Following up with a wink, Gladiolus turns to go. Ignis turns his attention to Prompto, smiling warmly, then gestures him in.

Prompto steps into the room without a second thought. Ignis closes the door behind him, and he has a moment to look around. He’s not sure what he expected, but probably not a _bedroom_ , which is exactly where he is: a huge, rich bedroom with decorations that look like they’re worth more than Prompto’s entire apartment. There’s a towering window looking out over the city, tall bookshelves completely filled, elegant couches, a gold-rimmed rug, and even a chandelier. But the massive four-poster bed is the focal point: it’s bigger than Prompto’s whole kitchen.

Ignis strolls leisurely over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. He pats the black sheets beside him, and Prompto tries not to run too quickly over. 

He sits next to Ignis, feeling like he’s made up entirely of hormones. He can’t believe it’s really happening. He can’t believe he gets to start with _Ignis._ He has to inconspicuously tuck his hands underneath his thighs, because otherwise he’s going to get ahead of himself and try to put them all over Ignis. 

Ignis asks, voice steady and smooth, “Are you completely sure that you wish to do this?”

Prompto answers instantly, “Totally.”

Ignis’ bow lips quirk upwards. Prompto’s sure his eagerness is all over his face. He’s equal parts ashamed and ecstatic. Ignis starts to explain, “As I’m sure you know, sharing a bed with any member of the royal family is an enormous honour. One that requires both permission directly from the crown and extensive training. His highness deserves only the best.” Prompto completely agrees. But he didn’t realize the permission part, and he’s shocked when Ignis continues, “Fortunately, his majesty has already approved of you; it seems Prince Noctis’ affection for you hasn’t gone unnoticed.” Prompto’s sure his cheeks are completely red. Ignis kindly doesn’t comment on it. “Now, as I’m sure you know... you’re here today for the training part.”

Prompto can only nod. Words are completely beyond him. Ignis waits anyway, but Prompto doesn’t have anything to add.

When that becomes obvious, Ignis asks again, “Will this be acceptable to you?”

“Astrals _yes_.” If anything, the fact that he’ll get to touch Ignis first is an even greater incentive. He figured that when they were all together, there’d be times he would be allowed to enjoy Ignis, and maybe there’d even be occasions where he’d be with Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus all at once. It’s all completely overwhelming, but he’s daydreamed out every last possibility. Ignis seems pleased by his obvious resolve and goes on.

“I’m glad to hear it. As I explained before, albeit in far less detail, I will be the one to administer this training, assuming you have no objections...” Again, Ignis waits, and again, Prompto does nothing but fight the urge to salivate. “Very well. I must warn you, this will be an extensive process. His highness has quite interesting and varying tastes in some aspects, and I intend to instruct you on all of them. But today will only be a short session, covering only a few basics, so that you can get a feel for it. Then you can make a more informed decision as to whether or not you truly wish to change the nature of your relationship, not only with Prince Noctis himself, but with his existing partners.”

Prompto knows that means Ignis and Gladiolus. And he’s absolutely down for climbing them like trees. As for the prince himself—Prompto probably started crushing on Noctis around the first time he ever set eyes on him. 

Ignis prompts, “Do you have any questions?” 

Because Prompto has no appropriate ones, he just shakes his head. He’s sure Ignis will guide him along properly and tell him what he needs to know. He trusts Ignis implicitly. Ignis shifts across the mattress, moving just that little bit closer, so that their sides are touching, and Prompto’s suddenly on fire with it. 

“You may stop me at any time,” Ignis murmurs, leaning in as his arm reaches around the small of Prompto’s back. “In fact, I insist that you do so should you become uncomfortable.”

The only part of Prompto that’s uncomfortable is his crotch—his skinny jeans have become way too tight. He’s got a long walk home after this, so he can only hope he won’t go bursting any seams or staining the fabric. 

“You’re very cute, Prompto,” Ignis all but purrs, and a delighted shiver runs right down Prompto’s spine. Next to Ignis, he’s _nothing._ “Noctis will probably tell you that—most of the time, he’s very complimentary. He likes to praise his lovers if they please him. I encourage you to return the favour. Tell him how handsome he is, tell him how wonderful it feels when he makes love to you—be as vocal as you can. Generally, he’ll want to hear everything, and if he doesn’t, you’ll know, because he’ll gag you.”

Prompto fidgets on the bed and bites his bottom lip to keep from groaning. Somehow, a gag had never showed up in his fantasies. It does now. He pictures himself writhing under Noctis, blurting a slew of compliments that earn him hard, steady thrusts before rough plastic’s shoved into his mouth. He wonders if he should do it now—if he should say how incredibly _hot_ Ignis is. But Ignis asks first, “Can you do that, Prompto?”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto answers. “I can be really loud—I can say a lot—”

“I’m sure you can,” Ignis cuts him off, smiling. Prompto already feels light-headed. “However, it needn’t all be praise. Noctis _wants_ to make his partners feel good, so he isn’t opposed to hearing honest feedback. If you need him to stop doing something or to try doing something else, you should ask. Again, there are exceptions to this, but he’ll make it known when he’s in the mood to do whatever he pleases to you.”

In a way, Prompto was hoping that might happen every time—he can’t think of anything hotter that Noctis pinning him down and just _using_ him for pleasure. Except maybe Ignis doing it. Or one of them while the other watched, with Gladiolus waiting his turn...

“There will be occasions where he feels like using his title, and he’ll ask you to refer to him only as ‘your highness’ or ‘sir.’ During these times, you should obey him unconditionally—unless you wish to stop entirely, of course. But unless he makes that ask, you are to call him by his name and treat him not like a prince, but as your lover.”

Prompto nods dizzily. Sure, he can do that. He can be whatever Noctis wants. He can feel himself leaning forward, half because Ignis’ cologne is irresistible and half because he’s desperate to hear how else he can please these men. 

“I think the rest I’ll tell you as we go, so that you can _experience_ it and incorporate my advise into action.”

Prompto’s eyes go a little wide. Ignis asks, “May I kiss you?” 

Somehow, Prompto gets tripped up on a simple answer. “ _Yes_. I mean, how should I—uh, not that I’ve never, ‘cause like, I totally have, but, y’know, for Noct—or, uh, for you, what should I—”

Ignis hushes him with a single look, telling him quietly, “I’ll instruct you properly afterwards, Prompto. First, I just want to know what you taste like.”

Prompto’s whole body is a furnace. He forces himself not to babble anymore and bites his bottom lip to keep it from happening. Ignis’ eyes fall to the movement, and long fingers curl under his chin, tilting him up. Ignis isn’t wearing any gloves today, so it’s just _skin on skin_. Prompto’s pulse is racing.

Ignis leans in to brush a kiss across his lips. It’s chaste, at first, and Prompto’s frozen with it, both in a state of shock and desperate to commit it all to memory. Ignis’ lips are so _soft_. They’re smooth and a little moist. Ignis presses closer, and then his tongue pokes out and traces along Prompto’s seam. Prompto opens his mouth to moan, and suddenly Ignis tongue is _in him_.

There’s a split second where Prompto wants to mouth at him like crazy, lick him up and suck him down and just be an awful mess, but with considerable will power, Prompto flicks it right off like a switch. Instead, he surrenders. He opens wide and lets Ignis explore, lets Ignis guide all of his movements. Ignis kisses him long and slow, wet and deep. When Ignis finally pulls back, Prompto’s panting.

Ignis swipes his thumb over the corner of his lip. He murmurs, “Not bad...” which makes Prompto swell. “But I can tell you’re holding back. Never do so with Noctis. I promise you he can handle your fervour... as can I.”

Prompto squeaks, “Cool,” and feels like an idiot. A very, very horny idiot. Ignis eyes Prompto’s lips for a few more seconds.

Then he asks, “Have you ever sucked cock before?”

Prompto practically chokes. The answer is no, not yet, but instead, he blurts, “Will I get to suck yours?”

Fortunately, Ignis only dons an indulgent smile. “Not at first, no. I’d planned to demonstrate on you, and then have you practice on Gladio, so I could have a more objective view and instruct you through it. But yes, I believe I will test you myself before I allow you to pleasure Noctis that way.”

It just keeps getting better and better. Prompto thinks he actually might faint. He tells Ignis, “I’m ready.”

Ignis chuckles lightly. “I’m glad. But we’re a ways away from that yet. In the meantime, I would advise against you having any other partners. You might subconsciously adapt your habits to meet their tastes, when you should be focusing on Noct’s.”

Prompto lamely jokes, “Nobody but you, babe,” and then immediately wishes he could take it back. Even though Ignis looks mildly amused. Prompto would never go anywhere else anyway—he can’t imagine finding anyone hotter than the three hunks already in his life. 

Unfortunately, Ignis then tells him, “I think we’ll leave it there for today. The next session will be quite a bit longer and more in depth, but I want you to have time to process this in between.”

Prompto says, “Okay,” even though he wants to pull Ignis down onto the bed and never leave.

Ignis pats his thigh. It doesn’t help matters at all. Prompto’s sure his interest is obvious. But Ignis makes no mention of it right then, just gets up to his feet, straightens out his jacket, and looks down at Prompto. “You may stay here a little longer, if you wish, and take care of your... ah... problem. I would offer to help, but again, I want you to have time to process before you’ve gone too far with any of us. It is a rather large undertaking, you know.”

Prompto mumbles, “I know.” Really, the only thing he’s trying to process is that Ignis Scientia just casually referred to his boner. It’s surreal. Ignis offers a sympathetic smile.

Then he leans down again to peck Prompto’s cheek, murmuring, “Until next Saturday, Prompto.”

Prompto watches Ignis’ taut ass move as he leaves. Then Prompto flops down into the royal bed, burrows under the luxurious covers, and furiously jerks off to thought of all three future boyfriends.


End file.
